


Crossing the Line

by Jubalii



Category: Drifters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Gen, Low Key UST, Mostly Mockery, Not really romantic, Some Humor, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 10:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10274774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: Olminu can put up with a lot. A LOT. But even she draws lines in the sand.





	

            Olminu put one hand against her cheek, searching her mind for words as her pencil remained poised over the paper. The warmth of the sun drifted down between the outspread boughs of the oak tree she was seated under, a soft breeze stirring the leaves. She basked in the serenity, happy to be allowed a moment’s reprieve from the constant upheaval of the army and shouting of its three Drifter leaders. Turning back to her page, she resumed her writing.

            _While they seem at odds at times, in reality it is clear the Drifters have formed close bonds with one another that rival even familial ones. Nobunaga and Toyohisa especially, as they have created some sort of symbiotic relationship where the former is a stand-in father figure to the latter._ She smiled and nodded as she marked the period; her field reports were coming along nicely. The Grand Master would be pleased when she saw him next and could deliver her journal of Drifter analyses and hypotheses to him.

            “Hey, Oatmeal! _Oaaaatmeeeeal_! I need you!” She cringed at the voice, drifting over the landscape before her. She’d come out here to get some peace and quiet for once, and still he managed to find her! Sighing, she rose to her feet and gave one last, sorrowful glance towards the oak before setting out briskly through the golden strands of wheat billowing all around. “Hey, there you are! C’mere, c’mere!” She blinked, trying to find him in the field, and then her eyes picked out the tangled mess of his hair amidst the shadows of the tree line. He waved one hand at her in a gesture she took to mean ‘hurry it up’.

            “What do you want?” she asked, trying to remain civilized as she approached. When she reached the tree line she paused near a short aspen, but he stepped forward and crowded her in as usual. Being taller than she, he had an annoying habit of looming over her and bending down so that she felt trapped without even being touched or cornered. She’d grown used to it, though, and no longer felt the uneasiness that had plagued her first few days in the company of the Drifters.

            “Listen,” he began, pulling his forearm from the folds of his clothing and clapping his hand on her shoulder. She felt her knees began to buckle from the weight he was bearing down with and subtly pressed against the aspen to sturdy herself. Why was he so damn invasive? _Whether countries or personal space, count on Nobunaga to force his way in!_ She barely kept the smirk away from her lips when the thought crossed her mind.

            “We need more of your wall charms, Olmiboobs.” He peered at her contemplatively. She opened her mouth to let out a shout of exasperation at his purposeful botching of her name, but ultimately decided against it with another sigh. What was the point? It’s not as if he would listen. He knew her name; he just chose not to say it. It was becoming clear that this was a battle she couldn't easily win. “How many do you think you could make in three days’ time?”

            “T-three days?!” she squeaked, feeling her breath catch in her throat. She bit her lip, looking away from the expressive eyes—eye—boring into her face. She had never tried to make charms under pressure before, and wasn’t sure of the result. Rushed magic was lackluster at best, downright dangerous at worst. “I-I-I don’t know…. Two? Maybe?” she offered sheepishly, knowing already what his response would be.

            “Two!? Just _TWO_?!” He glared at her. “What do you mean, just two!? We’re gonna need at least nine, maybe ten! Two is just lazy!”

            “I beg your pardon?!” She yanked her shoulder from his grasp and squared off in her usual stance against him, resting on the balls of her feet in order to appear larger. “I’ll have you know that magic isn’t some simple art where you just twinkle your nose and everything you need falls from the heavens like manna!”

            “I know that!” he growled, puffing out his chest. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was when he got this way—the breeze in his hair, tremors of anger, his own over inflated ego—but it always seemed that his knotted tresses moved with a life of their own. “I’m expecting a smart magician like you to be able to make ten, or twenty! Not two!” The compliment didn’t go unnoticed, but acknowledging it would hardly be beneficial to her argument.

            “I’m not a magician yet! I’m only a novice!” she snapped, hands balling into fists. “It’s really hard to make a single charm, and—” The perfect metaphor dropped into the forefront of her mind and she took a deep breath. “Look, making magic is like loading a musket. If you don’t watch what you’re doing, you’ll put too much gunpowder in or miss a step, and then it’ll blow up in your face, right?” She watched his face light up in comprehension and nodded. “A skilled fighter can load a musket quickly, but a trainee needs time and patience to make sure they have everything right, _especially_ if they’re loading a gun for their captain. It’s the same with my charms.”

            “I see.” The hand that was on her shoulder moved to rub his chin as he stared over her head. She managed to muffle her breath of relief; her shoulder would live to see another day, it seemed. “Hmm…. Well then.”

            “Well?” she repeated hesitantly. She could see the gears turning in his head, but had no way of knowing what was going through his mind unless he chose to tell her. He was insane and brutish in his methods, but she couldn’t help but admire the thoroughness of his strategies. He was a man with a brilliant mind, one that thought of nearly everything. It was that same mind that first won her over to their cause, when they had tied her up and he’d talked of overthrowing the Orte lords. His thoughts, barbaric as they were, appealed to a side of her that she didn’t like to peer too closely at.

            He burst into sudden laughter, startling her. She jumped and edged away, but he followed her and swung his arm around her shoulders, dragging her flush with his side. She let out an involuntary cry of alarm, her glasses upset by the sudden movement. Her cheek was pressed against his ribs, breasts uncomfortably squashed at an odd angle as her lower half fought for space. His voice echoed in his chest and sounded odd in her ear as he spoke.

            “Listen: I’m not a man to put all his eggs in one basket. If two in three days is all you can achieve, so be it. Just keep making them, and we’ll stockpile them for another big battle someday in the future. For now, we’ll have to make do with other assets rather than magic.” Despite her halfhearted fight for freedom, he seemed completely at ease and ignored her hands trying to push him back.

            “I’ll try,” she agreed reluctantly, voice muffled by her hindered jaw. He looked down at her and his face broke into a real smile, one that he wore rarely compared to the usual smug visage. She felt her heart quiver, only just, at being singled out for such an expression. He usually saved that smile for Toyohisa.

            “That’s our girl,” he stated proudly, as if there were some unseen third party listening in. _O-our girl?_ she thought, stunned by the declaration. If anything, she was the Grand Master’s girl, and only because she worked under him. But he had put her in the care of the Drifters, hadn’t he? And before they’d met the Grand Master, she’d followed them of her own will, hadn’t she? Perhaps she _was_ their girl, just like she often thought of them as hers, in some small way. They were her responsibility at least. “That’s the Boobinu I know,” he continued happily. She gasped as she felt his hand grasp a handful of her chest and squeeze, not hard or in an attempt to cause pain, but enough that she still felt it. “Keep it up, and I might let you have the court magician position when I put Toyohisa on the throne.”

            “Let me go!” she hissed in outrage, redoubling her efforts to free herself from his iron grip as her cheeks flamed hotly. “Save it for your wife!” There was a pregnant pause, and she wondered quickly if he _had_ a wife. She thought he did, but sadly her own knowledge of the Drifters was nowhere near as expansive as the Grand Master’s. She looked up at him, expecting to see an offended expression on his face, but he merely looked shocked and amused. She’d taken him by surprise, it seemed.

            “Wha-at?” he drawled, smug and pompous as ever. He eased up on her chest and then abruptly let her go, laughing when she stumbled into the aspen. “Me and the old woman hated each other, didn’t you know?” She hadn’t known, but she wasn’t about to say it and give him the satisfaction.

            “Probably because you manhandled her!” she retorted, picking herself back up and brushing leaves from her hat. For a middle-aged man, he really acted like a child sometimes! Beyond middle-aged, really! Didn’t people from his world die young? She scowled as she continued to set herself to rights, only half-hearing his next words.

            “Nah, it was for other reasons,” he answered vaguely, scratching his stubble. Looking up, she watched his eyes mist over in memory. “Kitsuno, though… that was different….” His expression became one of sadness and he folded his arms inside his clothing again, brow drawn. Now it was her turn to be taken aback, and she swallowed quickly, trying to decide what to say. Did she continue the topic, or change the conversation? _Continue_ , she decided, knowing how hard it was to find him in a serious mood. For a warlord, he made sure to be a jovial one. _Perhaps it’s all an act, but still…._

            “Who was she?” She must have been close to him, for him to express such a strong emotion for her. He didn’t seem to hear her. “Nobunaga?” He jumped, his shoulders twitching slightly as he looked around before honing in on her.

            “Hmm? Oh, Kitsuno?” He seemed to remember where he was and his look morphed from sorrow to a mask of false ease, voice booming to compensate for the lapse. “She was my concubine, that’s who! Or one of my concubines, I should say.”

            “Oh. Of course.” She barely kept from rolling her eyes. Maybe the seriousness was an act, rather than the mocking. Then again, he could have been lying about who she was, but she doubted it. He was many things, but deep down she knew—in a way—that he wasn’t a pathological liar. Trickster, perhaps, but that was just part of his nature. “I’m sure you had an entire harem of women lusting after you.” His chest puffed up even more, if possible.

            “Ha-ha!” he crowed. “Many women _wished_ to bed me, but only the worthiest could pass the test and become my concubine!” His arm unfolded from the clothing again, fingers wiggling menacingly in the air. “In fact, any woman brave enough to try had to pass no less than seventy tests of courage, endurance, flower arranging, strategy—”

                “ _You’re lying_!” Forget it! He really was a liar! She fumed, hands clenching into fists as she turned her back purposely to him. She hated how he could flip some secret switch inside of her and just… just…. She crossed her arms, shoulders hunching. He made her so _angry!_ There was a movement and she gasped as she found herself trapped, her back hitting his chest as an arm snaked around her waist.

            “Of course, someone like you would probably pass all seventy with ease.” His voice was hushed, breath hot against her ear. “I’d be more than happy to let you try.” For a quick, embarrassing moment she relaxed against him while her brain turned over the thought and comprehended what he’d just _dared_ to imply. Then, without even thinking, her arm twisted forward and back, slamming her elbow into the softest part of his stomach. He grunted in pain and fell away, a solid _thump_ alerting her that she’d floored him, quite literally. Turning around, she slammed her boot onto his sleeve, effectively pinning him; now, it was his turn to look up at her for a change. A wave of triumph washed through her and she drew herself up to full height, glaring down at him full-force.

            “Listen to me, and good,” she growled in a voice so unlike her own that for a moment, she thought someone else had come into the clearing. _No, that’s me?!_ “Chest squeezing and all aside, there are some things that no one, not even you, is allowed to get away with. I’m _magic_ : I will turn you into an ugly flapping bat if you don’t watch out!” She couldn’t, and even if she could she wouldn’t, but that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was that he believed her. “And furthermore, that will _never happen,_ so don’t even imagine us like that. Seventy tests or no, I’m never going to do so much as kiss your cheek!”

            “Oh really?” He half reclined, his sleeve the only thing holding him down and his hand draped across his stomach casually. Even if she had hurt him, he still acted as if he’d chosen to lie there. It was annoying, but she was more concerned by the hungry glint in his eye as he looked up at her. She’d seen such desirous glances directed to her breasts and body before, but he was staring straight into her _eyes_ and suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so tall and triumphant anymore.

            “Really.” She managed to say it without a hint of trepidation, and she considered it a victory. He tugged at his sleeve and she reluctantly removed her boot, letting him stand. He brushed the dust from his pants silently, and when their eyes met again she felt a chill run down her spine. She knew that look—he was calculating. She set her jaw and refused to look away defiantly, despite the small voice in the back of her head that said it was best to feign submission at the moment.

            “Hmm… I see.” He arched a brow imperiously, tilting his head before looking away. When he spoke again, his voice was as boisterous as ever. “Well then! C’mon, Olmi, no time to waste! Toyo and the others are probably waiting on us. I smell dinner!” he turned and stomped through the brush, kicking at leaves and swinging his arms. _O-Olmi? That’s a new one._ He turned and looked back at her, still standing beside the aspen. “Well? Come along!” She grunted, looking back at the tree across the field. What happened to writing her field reports? Sighing, she turned her back on the paradise and faced her sad reality, trudging along in his wake.

            “R-right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:   
> Finally, I write for Drifters. I've stopped my heel in another car of the Hirano train. 
> 
> I fluctuate between wanting Olminu x Nobunaga to stay a crack pairing, or for it to be canon. Either way, I'm screaming.


End file.
